Forgotten
by spilling off the canvas
Summary: Previously a one-shot, now a series of small thoughts about forgotten things. Post Son of Neptune.
1. Chapter 1

**Like a truly devoted Percy Jackson fan, I loved the Son of Neptune and was sorely frustrated by the awful cliffhanger! So this is what I did to vent my anger. Enjoy to your own discretion. **

**May I also say that all original characters and wisecracking humor belongs to Rick Riordan. **

Forgotten

_My name is Percy Jackson. _

It was the only thing he remembered when he had first awoken with the wolves, the only thing he was sure of. And when the entire contents of your memory are erased, being able to know your name actually means a lot.

Being able to remember someone else's means even more.

_Annabeth._

The name teased him, taunted him. Not a day went by that he didn't wonder who she was, and why he remembered her, and why she was important to him. He must have loved her, because why else would her name by so fermented in his mind? If only he could remember . . .

_Annabeth._

And then he did. Suddenly Percy Jackson was a person, not just a name without any meaning behind it. He was the son of the sea god. His mother was Sally Jackson. He was almost seventeen years old, though he wasn't supposed to make it past sixteen. Percy remembered all the little things he wasn't supposed to do or be, but was anyway.

_Annabeth._

How could he have ever forgotten her? As his memories gradually trickled into his mind, every single moment he had spent with her swelled until it was all he could think about. Her golden hair that always had the perfect amount of curly tendrils; the way her eyes could range from a storming sky to the color of the sea before the sun rises. All at once, Percy became overwhelmed with the feeling of _missing her. _It did not feel right to be without her, always there to have his back and remind him when he was being dumb. Like a missing limb or a misplaced item. He had his memories now, but couldn't help feel the weight of all the days he lost while he was gone.

"You would never forget me, would you, Seaweed Brain?" The last words Annabeth ever said to him the night before he disappeared. It simply seemed ironic now. Percy felt a sense of accomplishment using the word; Annabeth would've been proud. Will be proud.

When the message from Leo came, alerting Camp Jupiter about their arrival, Percy swore his heart jumped at about a million miles a second. It almost seemed unreal. A trick of the Fate's. Some small, rogue (another word he had learned from Annabeth) part of his mind had started to believe that he would never be able to have that part of his life again. Knowing that in a few, short minutes, he would be able to see his family again was almost too much for Percy's fatigued mind to handle. It had been so long.

The golden dragon ship came closer, and suddenly Percy began to be afraid. What if Annabeth had moved on in the eight months he had disappeared? What if she wasn't there at all? But she would be on that ship. Somehow, Percy just knew. It was the surest thing in his mind since he had woken up with his name.

Five minutes passed. Eight minutes. The dragon ship inched closer and closer, sunlight glinting white off its gold surface. Percy saw a flash of yellow hair, though when the person turned around, it was turned out to be a boy with a spiky crop, similar to the style of the other Roman demigods. He was the complete opposite of Percy and his dark mop. _This the guy Hera chose to switch me with? _Jason … something. Percy tried to remember the name of the boy, but could not. This bothered Percy, for some reason; he felt that it was an important thing to know.

As the ship closed into the dock, time seemed to stand still. Slowly, the kids on board descended from the dock: Jason, Leo, and a dark haired girl Percy thought was named Piper. He did not really notice them; he was watching the girl after. Though they were still a distance away, Percy could see her so clearly he thought he could count each curl on her head. The memory of the first moment they met flooded into his mind. She still looked like a princess. Percy hoped he didn't drool anymore.

"Percy," he heard.

He looked up, and suddenly she was there: Annabeth looking at him with such a face that he did not know if she wanted to punch him or kiss him or something else much more dangerous. It made all the worries in his mind dissipate, because only _his_ Annabeth could glare at him like this. Percy's whole body felt lighter, as if there had been a weight on him that he hadn't know was there. It felt more relieving than when he had let go of the sky.

"Do I know you?" he asked with a completely serious expression.

The girl's hope fell—Percy thought he heard her heart dropping—and her gray eyes began to flicker with tears.

"You … you can't have forgotten," she cried, "You were supposed to remember. You promised you wouldn't forget."

Unable to control himself any longer, Percy pulled her into his arms gently and whispered, "I could never forget you, Annabeth."


	2. Chapter 2

**So … this story wasn't meant to continue. But I liked the feel so much that I decided to turn it into a series of drabbles of all things Percy Jackson that catch my fancy. It will be updated sporadically because my life is busy and I don't get to write as often as I wish. Also, thanks to all who reviewed! They made my whole week. **

**Again, Percy Jackson=not mine. No matter how I wish he was. **

Forgotten

_Two-Annabeth_

The gods enjoyed playing with Annabeth: there was no other way to say it. Sixteen years was a long enough time to realize that she didn't really decide anything when it came to the future, because it could always be taken away from her without as much as a sign or warning. Which, of course, didn't really bother her that much. She had learned to live with it. She had learned to push the people she loved into a far corner of her heart, where she let them gather dust and fade away. _Thalia. Luke. Dad. _They were all sealed and shut.

Her one cardinal rule: don't depend on anything or anyone.

Annabeth never thought she would live to see the day she forgot it.

When she met him, she did not love him. Not even anything remotely close to acquaintanceship. Percy Jackson was simply a means by which she could get the things she wanted most—the things she tried so hard to forget. At first it wasn't hard at all to hate him. Annabeth couldn't believe that this was the kid who was supposed to fulfill the Great Prophecy. He was so _annoying; _just being around him made her want to grit her teeth into sand. It was no wonder that he was the son of Poseidon—Percy had about the same brain capacity as any other kelp-headed fish. Nothing at all like children of Athena.

But then he saved her life.

And made her laugh.

_Maybe _he wasn't such a Seaweed Brain after all.

Yet she still did not love him. Annabeth would not let herself do that.

They could at least be friends, though.

Fours years passed. Annabeth grew up, and so did Percy. He became taller than her, a little less boyish than he had been at the age of twelve. Fours years of adventures had brought them closer than any mortal friendship could ever be, and Annabeth liked it that way. She liked the way that Percy made her feel.

_Made her feel?_

Annabeth was slipping, and she knew it. The boxes in her heart were being taken out, examined, left in the open air, and she was not sure whether she liked it or not. It was too vulnerable. Yet it felt far too good for Annabeth to bother putting them back up. Kissing Percy was such a pleasant feeling; the weight of his steady hand in hers as they listened to the waves colliding with the pearly sands of summer. Stupidly and irrationally, Annabeth began to believe that maybe her luck had changed, that he was here to stay. After all, they had survived the war together. With that behind them, there was nothing in the world that could come between her and him.

Of course, she'd been wrong.

Percy was gone—vanished into nothing. It just wasn't logical. How could he have been here, so close to her, and then suddenly gone in the next moment? There was no sense in it. Annabeth prided herself for her wits, and having those fail her as well was almost too much for her to handle. Her temper became sharper, her tears a little more free. She wanted to blame anything and everything, but the rational part of her mind only thought of one fact:

She missed him.

The months fell away like leaves from a tree: December, January, February, March … On and on and on. Her search became a hopeless effort that Annabeth sustained only for the sake of doing something, because she knew that if she did nothing she would go insane. _Percy, Percy, Percy. _His name ran through her mind day and night, like a broken light-up sign that refused to burn out. She almost wanted to give up. Why had she even let herself fall for that stupid seaweed brain in the first place? Things would have been better if she had simply remembered her rules and kept her heart in the dark. Annabeth was supposed to be a daughter of wisdom, not some girl who wore her heart on her sleeve for all to see.

"Would you really give up on me so easily?" the imaginary boy in her mind teased.

_It's not that simple, _she replied.

"Sure it is," the boy said, laughing as if it were an ordinary afternoon at the beach, "You were always one to overcomplicate things, Wise Girl."

So she kept searching.

_What if you never find him? _The rational, defensive voice inside of her asked the question constantly.

Yet, right now, standing in front Percy, she couldn't help but forget all her fears and hesitations. _Here _was something more permanent that anything the gods could throw at them. _Here _was something worth remembering.


End file.
